The Visit
by MisterMitty
Summary: Nighttime musing.
1. Chapter 1

Shane rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. There was no moment of stepping through the gentle delirium that usually followed the mind out of sleep. She woke in a heartbeat and didn't know why. She pulled the blankets to her chin, snuggling deeper into their comforting nest. When the porch swing by the front door squeaked, her eyes popped open again and she knew why she was awake.

Another heartbeat and she was belting the plush terrycloth robe around herself, the nesting blankets still mounded in the shape of her body, but empty. "What?" she whispered to herself, not understanding. The porch swing squeaked again as she slipped into the Birche Slippers that felt like kid-gloves holding her feet. Another heartbeat and she was standing in the hallway, looking into the living room at Oliver in the rocking chair, eyes closed and a contented smile on his face. Home from the hospital only a month and the twins were doing what they did best, sleeping. Rebecca Crystal was the angel of the two, well-mannered and ladylike even at such a young age. Joseph Norman was the antagonist, moody and fitful, and at the moment the object of Oliver's ministering attentions. Her husband had the fitful one in his arms and was applying a cure so old it had never been recorded in history; a combination of rocking, cuddling, and the whispering words of love. Shane's heart swelled at the sight, her husband was very good with the cure and for a moment she was tempted to pause and wait until little fitful was asleep again so her husband could minister to her among the nest of blankets. The porch swing interrupted her mental dalliance and she continued along the hall to the front door.

Pushing the screen door open, she paused when she saw the figure sitting in the swing. She recognized Him instantly, she knew His name, but like an elusive memory she could not call it to her tongue. Her heart started pounding in her chest and she shrank back. "Fear not," the man said, reaching to take her hand. The words touched her, easing fear. "I long for the days when I won't have to start every conversation with those words. Only one time has someone recognized Me and not wanted to run away, but then Abraham was a different sort from the start. Please sit with Me," He added gently. She reached and took His hand and He guided her to sit beside Him.

"Is there a reason you would visit tonight?" The shred of remaining fear touched her voice and, giving it an odd tremolo.

The man pushed with His legs, setting the swing in motion. "Do you realize that your porch swing is the 'terebinth moment' for you and Oliver?"

Shane shook her head. "I don't know what that means."

The man chuckled softly and squeezed her hand. "To your question, I am not here for any reason tonight except to be near you, Oliver, and the twins. It's called fellowship and I enjoy it a great deal. When the twins are ready to learn to walk, you will hold them by the hands, lifting them up so that unsteady steps may become sure. In the same way, I am doing that with you right now."

"Can I get you something? Are you hungry?" Shane shook her head at the presumptuous question.

"Thank you, but no. Just be here with Me, talk if you like." The man kept pushing with his legs and the swing completed each arc with a small squeak. "You can even ask that question looming at the back of your mind. Your choice."

"How – h – ?"

"Look Kid. When you start studying that Bible Oliver gave you, you will learn that there is not a word on your tongue that I don't know before you speak, and not a thought that I cannot see. But like I said, the choice is yours."

Shane let the swing move her and stared out into the night. The man was right, the memory was still fresh in her mind and the question loomed above it like a banner on a battlefield. The tears started then and she let her head fall forward so they could roll off her cheeks.

"Shane," the man said, squeezing her hand. "Talk to Me. Go ahead, ask."

"Why – why did my daddy leave me?"

The man sat silent, letting the swing speak for a moment as Shane wept, washing a wound that had never healed. "That is a tough question," the man said. "Not tough to answer, but so very tough to understand. The truth of it is that it was his choice to make. It's called freewill. Yes, it messed you up, it hurt and still does. Your choice is what to do with the hurt. But the point of your terebinth moment is the man rocking your baby at this moment, the man you love. He has spent a lifetime surviving other people's choices and he did it with faith and more. So have you. Read the scripture that says, "A woman's heart plans her way, but the Lord directs her steps"? Or do you still believe in coincidence?"

Shane shook her head. "No. I have seen too many divine deliveries to accept coincidence."

"Ah, wisdom grows like the terebinth tree. Your first day of work at the DLO, you stopped at a coffee cart and found yourself standing behind Oliver O'Toole. Have you ever asked yourself how exactly that happened?"

Shane blinked. "Are you saying that was a set up?"

The man laughed. "Of course it was a set up. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without My knowing it."

Another heartbeat and she felt odd suddenly, as if she were tipping over. Alone on the swing, she turned and the support chains squeaked at her movement. She pulled the robe tighter as the front door creaked open and Oliver came out. He sat and gathered her under his arm. "The children are both asleep," he said softly.

She stared at his face and lifted one hand, touching the lines of his brow, the bridge of his nose, his lips. Many times since there first kiss, she had been overwhelmed by how much she could love one person, but never more than at that moment. "Oh," she said softly. "Terebinth is a face to face moment. I see it now," she said and kissed him softly.


	2. Chapter 2

_**"Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore, so do our minutes hasten to their end."** W. Shakespeare_

Shane sat on a stump.

It was an obvious visual pun, especially while in Hayden Green Mountain Park, but Oliver enjoyed it nonetheless and laughed quietly to himself. He need not have, his wife was so wrapped with perplexity that she would not have noticed if he'd laughed loudly. As he approached her perch, her phone rang and she turned to reach into her pocket, saw him smiling and gave him a wave.

"Mom says the twins are fine and we don't need to stop at home after lunch," she said, hanging up the phone and closing her Bible.

Oliver kissed his wife then sat on a bench next to the stump, watching the wisps of puzzlement leave her face. Knowing the expression meant that a question was forming in her mind, he braced himself. She had a knack of digging into the very small spaces between the lines of scripture to find the nuggets of gold. When he saw the quick twinkle of mischief deep in the blue of her eyes, he knew it was going to be a doozy. It was.

"Why are we supposed to pray?" she asked and cocked her head expectantly to one side. He gave her his best 'feel free to use more words' look. She smiled, twitching one corner of her mouth delightfully. "If God knows every word I'm going to say before I say it, and every thought when I think it, what's the point of prayer?"

Ah. The complexity of the McInerney mind had woven a snare that, like as not, he was going to step right into. He thought about running up the white flag, but prayed silently instead. "I need some help here." Right on cue, the familiar still small voice whispered and he smiled. "What did you read?" he asked.

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances," she recited perfectly. "Why pray?"

Oliver nodded, looking a bit smug, but knowing the answer to the question can have that effect. "In one place in that Bible, it says, "Bow down Your ear, O Lord, hear me for I am poor and needy." A few verses later, the Psalmist says, "Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I cry to You all day long." Does that remind you a little bit of little Rebecca and Joe? In God's eyes we are just like them."

Shane's smile was bright and broad. She understood.

"Prayer is like a coin with two sides. When you spend it, you must spend both sides. Yes?" Shane nodded. "If God gave us favors without constraining us to pray for them, we should never know how poor we are. The simple act of prayer teaches us our unworthiness, a serious lesson for such proud beings that we are. So the first side of the coin is that prayer is an inventory of wants, a catalog of necessities, and a revelation of hidden poverty. It humbles the proud being into the dust from which he came.*

"The other side of the coin is that prayer is the benefit, not the answer. A runner gains strength for the race by daily exercise. That is prayer. Prayer plumes the wings of God's young eaglets, that we may learn to mount above the storms." Shane's smile got broader. "Prayer girds human weakness with divine strength and turns my folly into heavenly wisdom.*"

Shane nodded. "And the silence after prayer? What is that?"

It was Oliver's turn to smile. "His silence is proof that He heard you, and the first sign that He is drawing you into a closer intimacy with Him.** Silence is the blessing that hasn't happened yet when we trust Him with the answer."

Shane left her stump and curled up onto Oliver's lap, snuggling her face into his neck. "Such a peculiar man you turned out to be Mr. O'Toole," she whispered.

"Such a peculiar wife you turned out to be Ms McInerney," he laughed.

 _ **"Better three hours too soon than a minute too late."** W. Shakespeare_

A day is made of moments frozen in time, one link added to another until a chain of minutes are made, and then hours. Most moments are unremarkable in every way, but some are more profound than man shall ever know.

Oliver and Shane were using the crosswalk that joined the employee parking lot with the Post Office proper, and completely unaware of the moment racing at them with reckless abandon.

 _The before moment_ was one of joy, Shane turned and punched Oliver in the shoulder, sign langue that spoke to them both of a deeply cherished love. Oliver turned in that moment, smiling, and was the only one who saw the moment rushing headlong to take them both.

 _The moment_ was a fully loaded Mail Van and a driver who had stayed too long at lunch, now forced into desperate haste and looking the wrong way to see the happy couple in the crosshairs of the van. In the small space between seconds, Oliver heard the squealing of tires, measured the speed of the van with one part of his mind, compared that to the reaction time needed to step to safety with another, remembered growing up without a mother with a third, and made the only decision that a heart filled with love could make. Picking Shane up by her arms, he turned to the side and pushed so that the speeding truck would miss her and take him only. I love you, his heart wanted to shout, but there wasn't time.

Unseen hands, much larger and stronger than his own, gripped his arms and turned to the side, setting him on the sidewalk beside his wife. Oliver recognized the presence instantly, knew His name, but was unable to call it to his tongue. "For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone," the still small voice whispered.

 _The after moment_ was one of confusion as the wind caused by the racing truck pulled at Shane's blonde hair and Oliver's jacket, mussing both. The two looked at each other, blinking surprise. That something profound had just happened was clear, but they were at a loss to describe exactly what that moment had been. The same look of perplexity that had captured Shane in the park, now rested on them both. Oliver reached with his mind, chasing after the elusive moment, to bring it back, to understand, but as with a quickly fading dream he was unable to grasp it. So he took his wife by the hand and led her into the DLO.

 _*Charles Spurgeon -_ _**Oswald Chambers_


End file.
